


Crystal Grace

by Idrelle_Miocovani



Series: Arrow of Carnations [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gift Giving, Magic, Reunion Sex, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 15:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idrelle_Miocovani/pseuds/Idrelle_Miocovani
Summary: He returns after sixty-six days in the field, and she counted every one.





	Crystal Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill -- "Boxes", requested to be NSFW.

It has been sixty-six days since she saw him last. 

Leliana will tease her for keeping count, but in truth she only remembers the number because it is her duty to know. When the Inquisitor leaves and when the Inquisitor returns—no one is more familiar with those dates than Josephine. 

As the Inquisitor's arcane advisor, Solas has been called to accompany Ashara Trevelyan to the field on many occasions. By now he has travelled most of southern Thedas at her side, visiting places Josephine will only see through the words marked down in reports. Solas leaving is a common event, one to which Josephine is thoroughly accustomed. 

But that was before. 

This is now. 

Josephine sits on the edge of her bed, illuminated in the late afternoon sun, her arms wrapped around Solas, kissing him softly. With the Inquisitor's return to Skyhold causing its usual disorder, she is grateful for her assistants. Seizing a lull in the chaos, Josephine disappeared to her quarters, Solas' hand in hers, and put the commotion in the great hall far from her mind. 

"I never thought the day would come when you would so eagerly release control," he says, chuckling, running a hand through her loose hair. 

"Adelaide is quite capable of handling events herself," Josephine replies. "I trust her more than I trust myself." 

Solas kisses her cheek. "If you wish to return—" 

"No." Josephine puts a finger to his mouth. "It has been sixty-six days. We deserve this." She presses her lips to his, but he is already laughing. 

"You counted." 

"Of course I did." 

He brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. "You are an extraordinary woman, Josephine Montilyet." 

She blushes. "You must tell me everything. I have gathered some facts from the reports sent by raven, but I would hear it from you. Where did you go? What did you see? The Emerald Graves, the Western Approach, I must hear all of it." 

"I will tell you in due course," Solas says. "I promise. But first, I have something for you." 

He disentangles himself from her and crosses the room. 

"For me?" Josephine says, intrigued. 

Solas withdraws a small wooden box. He hands it to her and sits, stretching out his long legs. "Open it." 

Josephine examines the box. It looks elvhen. Exquisitely made from a wood she does not recognize, its surface dark, but stained naturally red. The edges of the lid are engraved with vines and halla. A soft, earthy scent clings to it. 

She cannot imagine what it contains.  

"What is it?" Josephine repeats. 

Solas smiles knowingly and brushes her hand with his fingertips. "Open it," he insists. 

Josephine raises an eyebrow. She sets the box on the edge of her bed and opens it. It is filled with small linen bags, each tied shut with care. Josephine takes one out, holding it carefully in her palm. The bag barely weighs a thing. Puzzled, she pulls the ties open and peers inside. 

The bag holds a collection of seeds. 

"Solas," she says, "what are these?" 

He gently takes the bag from her. "I have journeyed far with the Inquisitor," he says, striding across the room to the balcony. "I have been many places and seen a great many things. I know it pains your heart that you cannot accompany us, that you must stay here and oversee the Inquisition's work." He pushes the door open and steps into the sunlight. "The box contains a collection of seeds from each region we have visited." He pours a single seed into his palm. They glimmer in the sunlight. "Flowers, herbs… both practical and beautiful. With a little help, they should thrive well in Skyhold's garden. A memory of what lies beyond these mountains." 

Solas blows a puff of air on the seed. A trail of yellow magic, barely perceptible in the warm afternoon sunlight, threads around it, trailing motes in the air. Josephine watches in astonishment as the seed sprouts before her eyes, transforming into a white-petaled flower. 

"Crystal grace," Josephine murmurs, eyes wide. She stands, drifting to the balcony doors, her skirts whispering across the stone floor as she moves. She reaches out, her hand shaking, trembling, cautious to touch an object infused with magic.   

"From the Emerald Graves," Solas says. "I took a cutting from an overgrown grove. So entangled it was, it hid the statue of Mythal beneath. A remnant of an era gone, standing against the test of time." 

The yellow glow fades. 

"I can imagine it," Josephine says quietly. Her fingers brush the delicate petals. "How did you…?" 

"Magic comes in many forms," Solas says, smiling. He takes the flower and tucks it behind her ear. It shines bright against her dark hair. 

His fingers linger on her neck. 

She covers his hand with hers. "It is a beautiful gift." 

Solas kisses her, wrapping her in an embrace. "It is a small token of remembrance," he says, drawing away. He cups her face, thumb resting on her chin. "For when I must return to the field." 

"Did the Inquisitor say when you must leave again?" Josephine asks, eyes searching his. 

"Not yet," he answers. "But trouble brews on the horizon. When she leaves, her army leaves with her. And we will march on Adamant." 

"Adamant… The Wardens…" Josephine shuts her eyes. "You've only just come back to me. All of you. I shouldn't think of it, I can't think of it—" 

"Then let us not." He presses his lips to hers, a desperate yearning in his kiss. He draws her away from the balcony, turning, legs entangled. Though he is pressed tightly against her, there is still too much space between them. "I missed you." 

"I know." 

His teeth graze her bottom lip. "All those weeks, all those nights…" 

"I know." She cradles the back of his neck and he kisses her cheek. Her ear. Her throat. His hands are in her hair. "Did my letters reach you?" 

He laughs, his chuckling breath tickling her skin. "They did indeed." 

"Oh good," Josephine says. "I would be quite appalled if they had gone missing. I'd hate to think my words reached anyone else. I think I would quite properly die of embarrassment." 

"A tragedy," Solas replies. "You have a marvelous gift with the pen. And a _vivid_ imagination." 

His hands press against the small of her back, pulling her into him. His growing hardness grinds against her. Her breath catches and she kisses him, pulling him towards the bed. She tips them onto the sheets, him on top of her. Her hair fans out behind her, a dark mane of curls spread across the bed. The flower remains tucked behind her ear. 

Josephine has no more words for him, nor he for her. There is only an urgent desperation, to touch, to feel, to return to the unforgotten place they were before he travelled west. They are sloppy in their haste—kisses wet, teeth clashing, buttons pulled, clothing in disarray, clinging to their bodies. Her bodice lies open, her skirts bunched around her hips, his hand on her naked breast, fingers skimming between her slick folds. She reels beneath him, legs spread wide, a moan caught in her throat as she kisses him frantically. 

Solas grunts. She keens, whispering wordlessly, breathlessly, wanting him. He takes his cock in hand and kisses her fiercely, groaning as he enters her. Her fingers dig into his back, nails scraping in lines, up and down, as he thrusts. Solas grunts, murmuring her name, face buried in her neck. A shiver spirals down her spine and she inhales, the rich, heady scent of him rushing over her. 

She puts her hands to his face and brings his mouth to hers. She kisses him fiercely with swollen lips. Her body wants him, needs him. Her legs wrap firmly around him, hips bucking as they move together. The growing coil of tension within her snaps and she's in a daze, waves of sensation shaking her entire body. He comes, his groan long and loud, stifled against her mouth. She laughs as he slips free and collapses against her, head resting against her chest. 

They lie there, clothing tangled around them, and hold one another. Josephine cannot clear the contended haze from her mind. She shivers and presses herself to him. Solas strokes her hair, fingers brushing the crystal grace tucked behind her ear. He kisses her softly, careful of her swollen lips. 

"I missed you," she says, echoing his earlier words. 

He smiles knowingly and presses his forehead against hers, eyes closed. "I know."


End file.
